The Wounded Willow
by jeteveuxbeau
Summary: AU - After the death of her father, a successful consultant begins a journey of discovery that will uncover forgotten wounds.
1. Oddities

" _The winds are changing."_

"Earth to Santana!" Kurt snaps his fingers in front of Santana's face. He follows her line of sight to the window of a small cafe near the crosswalk.

Santana takes a deep breath and averts her eyes from the fragile looking salt-and-pepper haired lady sitting with a book.

"She just reminds me of someone I met a few months ago. It's uncanny really." She forces a small smile at Kurt, and eyes the crosswalk man hoping for the change to allow them to walk away. It's cold, too cold to be standing outside for extended periods of time.

"I don't know how long it's been since you've gotten some lady loving, but it can't have been THAT long ago."

Santana playfully smacks his arm and sighs as they finally have the permission to cross the street.

"That's not the type of encounter I was talking about, Hummel. But, if you must know, there was this redhead a few days ago. And let me tell you, I can't stop thinking about the way she felt. How she practically _purred_ every time I touched her. How my fingers f-"

Santana laughed as Kurt tripped over the step up onto the sidewalk.

"No, that's quite alright. I don't need or want to know anything about your sex life. Please and thank you very much." Kurt side-eyed Santana as he brought up the elderly lady again, "so, what was with the distant look at the grandma back there?"

Without another way out, and no real reason to distract him again, Santana gave in, "Can we wait til we're inside? Cause I've only been back in Chicago for 2 minutes and I feel like my toes are going to fall off from this fucking cold weather."

"You've been here for two months, don't try to pull that shit with me. But, it doesn't matter since we're here anyway."

Santana thanked the young lady holding the door open for them. "I still don't understand why we had to drive all the way out to the burbs today, but as long as we're here I'm getting my favorite bread rolls."

They were fairly early in the dinner rush, so there was no wait for seating and they were immediately handed a bucket of peanuts and a basket of rolls. Santana slid on one side of the booth while Kurt positioned himself across from her, elbows resting on the table, and his chin on his hands. Santana exhaled a deep breath before putting her half cinna-buttered roll on her plate and continuing her story from earlier.

"So, remember when I first got back in town and you took me to the county fair?"

"Of course, that was a tough time. Is that was this is about? Your dad wou-"

"No, let me finish my story." Kurt mock zipped his lips while Santana continued on. "Anyway, the old fortune teller that you claimed never was around and only picked who she wanted to speak to. Well, I may have talked to her."

Kurt's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. Before he could interrupt her story again, Santana continued.

"When you and your flavor-of-the-month decided to go on the ferris wheel, I walked around the main strip. Taking in the lights and sounds and colors of being back in the States at autumn." A ghosting smile crosses over her face, "Anyway, a little old lady stopped me and said she needed to tell me something. I looked around, knowing there was a good chance I was being pranked or about to be mugged or something, but nothing looked out of the ordinary. She turned my hand palm side up in her leathery worn hands before closing her eyes and scaring the absolute shit out of me."

The server walked up at that moment to take their order, but Kurt was having none of it. He quickly spouted off the order that they get every time they're there: _Chicken strips. Honey mustard. Fries. Coke Zero. Ribeye - Medium. Sweet Potato. Steamed Veggies. Water._ Oh, _and more rolls._

Kurt turned back with a scowl, "You're not making any sense, Santana! What happened? Did she pass out? Oh my god, is she dead?!"

"Kurt, you are way too dramatic for your own good." Santana flips him off and shoves a bread roll in her mouth.

"Says the one dragging out a damn story about an old lady that she possibly killed."

"As I was saying, she was just really cryptic and I thought quite drunk or high or something cause when she opened her eyes it looked like she was on a whole different planet or something. But then today, that lady in the coffee shop. I just," Santana looked around at the other diners suspiciously, "something's just not right. I mean, not wrong per say, but off."

"Stop being so unhelpful! What did she say? Do you remember the gist of it?"

"There's no way I could forget it." Santana sat back in the booth and bit her lip before continuing.

" _The winds are changing. Though red skies are upon you, the day of Janus comes swiftly. With it your heart will find what it seeks. Only if you are open. Bend like the Willow, if you must, but do not let your eyes deceive you."_


	2. Underneath

"Santana!"

The covers didn't move, but Santana's groan of disapproval could be heard all the way downstairs. She knew she should get out of bed to see what her mom wanted, but her blankets were warm and the cold December winds were desperately trying to seep into her bones. Sure, it was a relatively warm winter thus far, but it was still far colder than she wanted it to be.

"Santana! Ven aqui!"

Maribel's voice was closer than before, and even though Santana was 27, she knew that she was on her final warning before her mom came storming into the bedroom. The fact that she had two warnings was a miracle in itself, she really shouldn't push it. Just as she was thinking about _possibly moving_ to _maybe_ make her way out of bed, really more like contemplating how bad it would be to relieve a little bit of her childhood, her door flew open and her mini-cyclone of a mother stormed in.

"Why are you still in bed, mija? You waste your days away staying in here."

The blackout curtains were unceremoniously parted and a flood of sunlight blanketed the otherwise dark room. Santana whipped the covers over her head, "Ma! I'm sleepy! I don't have anything to do today, can't I just have a day to relax?"

"Are you sick? Let me feel your forehead." Maribel tugged the covers out of Santana's grip and pressed her lips to her daughter's skin. "You don't seem warmer than normal."

Santana rolled her eyes and pulled the covers back up to her chin, "that's because I'm not sick."

"Then get out of this bed! You have used the same excuse for three weeks." Maribel walked towards the end of the bed and quickly yanked the charcoal grey blanket off of Santana and tossed it to the far side of the room. "Lunch will be ready in an hour."

Santana would normally make a smartass comment about being needlessly woken up early when she was obviously just going to have lunch while still wearing her pajamas, but Maribel was quicker and wiser than that. "And since you have some time to spare, how about you finally unpack those suitcases."

Santana's bedroom door closed and her eyes gravitated toward the three open suitcases sitting in front of her chest of drawers. _You'd think she'd give up telling me to unpack after the first 20 times._

* * *

The smell that invaded her nose should have been a warning. She should have known she was walking into an ambush. Something, anything, in her brain should have registered red flags.

Alert.

Danger.

Climb out the window and don't come back til the _let's talk about our feelings_ moment passes.

But, Maribel was smart. She knew Santana wouldn't be able to resist the smell of her favorite food. She knew that even if Santana had wanted to stay locked away in her room, that the smell of the spices and rice and meat would eventually get to her. Her mom was appealing to her stomach and Santana wasn't foolish enough to think it wasn't on purpose.

No matter how many times Santana had tried to make paella herself, it never turned out right. She googled countless recipes, but they never tasted the same as Maribel's. And every single time she was in the mood for it, her mom would never tell her the recipe.

The first time she went away on assignment she had a few bouts of homesickness where nothing made her feel better. So she called her mom on Skype and asked, basically _begged_ , for the recipe. _Nope._

Instead, Maribel looked up a place near Santana's hotel and sent her the directions so she could go have some food that reminded her of home. Of course it didn't even come close.

She tried again while she was in Barbados - pulling out the rarely used "mami" for emphasis. _No, mija._

She faked a cough in London, but Maribel just called the hotel and ordered soup through room service for her instead.

And just before she had to make her unexpected trip home in September, she was just starting an assignment in New Zealand. The team planned on going out for drinks, but she was feeling a bit jet-lagged. So she crawled into bed and skyped with her mom and dad. Halfway into the conversation, with her eyes drooping, she heard a fork clang against a bowl. Her eyes opened to her dad smirking while shoveling a bite of _her paella_ in his mouth. Carlos couldn't contain his laughter and Maribel had shooed him away from the screen. _Mija, I promise I'll give you the recipe, but not until the next time you're at home with us._

That felt like forever ago.

She barely glanced at the pictures framed on the stairway walls, not wanting another reason to feel her fight-flight response kick in, and braced herself as she walked down the stairs from the second floor.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Of all the sights she expected to see, Kurt sitting at her dining room table sipping a glass of red wine was definitely not one of them.

"So nice to see you, too, Santana." Kurt rolled his eyes and took another sip. When he looked up she was still standing at the entry by the landing with her arms crossed and her eyebrow raised. "I haven't seen you in forever. So when your mom invited me me over for lunch, how could say no?"

"You saw me two weeks ago."

"That is technically the truth. But then you bailed on our lunch plans and didn't come to thanksgiving because you said you had other plans."

"I did have other pl-" Santana tried to explain.

This time it was Kurt's turn to fold his arms across his chest. "You were housesitting for Mrs. Henderson."

Santana shrugged, "She had a diabetic cat that needed my attention."

"Oh, honey, you don't have to tell me about that _redhead beauty_. You've been seeing her for about a month now, right? Does she still _purr_ at your every touch?" Kurt raised his perfectly manicured brow.

Santana opened and closed her mouth a few times before giving up on making another excuse, "I know you're not here just to give me a hard time about making it seem as though my nosy neighbor's cat was some hot chick. I just did it to get you off my back."

Kurt rolled his eyes, "of course not. Though I do reserve the right to make a lesbian cat lady joke at some point in the future."

"Just like I reserve the right to tell you that you sound like a dying cat every time you open your mouth to sing."

Kurt flipped her off as Santana took his wine glass and finished off the rest.

"I honestly have no idea why your mom invited me over."

Santana frowned, "I didn't know she had your phone number."

"Oh, she doesn't. She messaged me on Facebook."

Santana's eyes widened, "since when have you and my mother been Facebook friends?"

"A few weeks ago," Maribel stated as she walked in carrying the cast iron skillet with both hands. She placed it on the hot pad in the middle of the table and took off her oven mitts. "I added Kurt, Quinn, and that cute girl Stacy. How is that going?"

Kurt tried to stifle his laugh. Tried being key.

Santana took a deep breath and rubbed her temples. She knew it was a bad idea to add her mom as a Facebook friend. "Ma, I told you this before, we had _one_ date. One. We are soooo not compatible. Please stop sending friend requests to people you don't know."

Santana and Maribel locked eyes and seemed to be having an epic staring contest.

Kurt spoke to break the tension, "yeah, Mari, that's how people get kidnapped. And as beautiful -"

"- and vibrant," Santana chimed in, looking away from her mom in the process.

"Yes, as beautiful _and vibrant_ as you are, Santana just doesn't want you to be mistaken for a twenty-something co-ed."

Maribel rolled her eyes at the two of them trying to hide their laughter behind their hands. "Hush you two! Santana... I will, _try to_ try, stop sending friend requests to pretty girls I think you'd like."

"You'll try to try?" Santana shook her head.

"Of course, but I can't make any promises." Maribel laughed as Kurt gave her a wink.

* * *

Santana leaned back in her chair and took in the sight of Kurt and her mom laughing at each other. Maribel's face was full of life that it took Santana a moment to get over the shock of how long it had been since she had seen her look so young. So carefree.

Maribel had long since stopped setting the table at mealtimes after she accidentally set a plate and utensils out for him again. Santana had found her crying on the floor. As if Maribel had read Santana's mind, the older woman's tired brown eyes landed on Carl's chair. She smiled a small, sad smile at some unspoken memory, and returned to her animated conversation with Kurt.

Santana couldn't believe it had already been three months since she got the phone call that had threatened to stop her heart from beating. Nearly just as long since she had heard his deep voice say 'Te Amo, mija'. Six months since she had felt his strong arms wrap around her torso and lift her into a bone-crushing bear hug. He had spun her around until she was crying from laughing so hard, and after she had barely had time to catch her breath, he made her promise to be back home in Chicago for Christmas. Her eyes closed on reflex as the tears she held captive threatened to fall.

"- Santana."

She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth and willed her eyes not to betray her.

"Are you okay?" Kurt broke the silence that had enveloped the room.

When Santana finally opened her eyes, both Kurt and Maribel were looking at her full of concern.

Santana leaned further into her chair and rubbed her stomach for effect, "of course, of course. I'm just so damn full!"

"Language, Santana!" Maribel chided.

"Don't think I've forgotten about our deal. I expect you to finally share this secret recipe before I leave." And just like that, the tension that had momentarily eased was seeping back into the room.

Maribel looked anywhere but in Santana's direction, "a promise is a promise."

Kurt stood to collect the dinner plates and clear the table, but Maribel took the dishes from his hands. "Oh no you don't, young man."

"But -" Kurt tried to protest.

"No, buts. You and Santana go relax while I get the leftovers packed away for you to take some with you."

Santana quickly pulled Kurt away from the table and upstairs to her room before he could try to protest again. She only let go of his arm once they were in her room and the door clicked closed. She strode over to her bed and leaned against the headboard as the power flicked on.

"You are not about to get off the hook that easily."

Santana ignored him and pressed the button to pull up Netflix, "I don't know what you're talking about. Help me pick something to watch."

"Puhlease! You and I both saw how your mom shrunk as soon as you mentioned leaving."

Santana was immediately on her feet. "What does she expect me to do? Quit my job? Stop traveling and doing what I love? I can't do that."

Kurt took a step closer before Santana started again, "I promised my papi that I would be home for Christmas and I intend on keeping that promise. But after that, I'm going back to my life."

"Is that why you haven't unpacked your suitcases?" Kurt pointed towards the open bags that were more like unorganized clothes mounds by now. "Look Santana, I know this is hard for you, but don't you think it's hard for Mari too?"

"You don't know shit!" Santana seethed. And if she had really thought about it, she would have remembered that Kurt could actually know where she was coming from since he went through losing his mom when they were younger. But Santana was angry and hurting, which was never a good combination.

"Why do you think I've been staying home so much? Why do you think I haven't gone out with you or Quinn? You may be Facebook friends and share a few laughs, but you haven't woken up in the middle of the night and heard her crying. You haven't had to hide his favorite coffee mug so that she wouldn't see it every morning and end up lying on the kitchen floor."

Santana could feel the all too familiar sting of tears threatening to fall, but she tried her hardest to will them away. "You haven't had to wonder if some things would have been different if I-I had made more trips home."

This time she couldn't stop the tears, so she quickly turned her back to Kurt before he could see them fall. Her eyes landed on the bench underneath their tree before the tears blurred it into swirls of dreary colors.

"San-" Kurt delicately placed his hand on her shoulder, like she might break even with a featherlight touch.

"Don't. Please. J-Just close my door when you leave."

Kurt knew that the best he could do right now was leave her to her thoughts. Talking to her about any sort of misplaced guilt would only stoke the fire of her hurt and anger if he tried it right now.

He heard rapid footsteps descending the stairs and took a moment to compose himself before he reached the landing, "I know you heard all of that."

Maribel looked up at him like a red-eyed deer caught in headlights. "Don't worry, I won't say anything to her about it. Just know that you can talk to me if you want to."

Maribel pulled Kurt into a tight hug, "I'll be fine. Just be there for her."

* * *

Thanks for the feedback! I'm happy to be back to writing Brittana again!

-J


	3. Reasons

"Yes, Kurt. We're at Mariano's picking up the stuff you asked for." Mike looked at the blonde and pointed to a row of junk food that held the next items on the list. "Yeah, I'll grab some extra cups and plates too. What do you mean they have to be red, white, and blue? It's Christmas time! Everything around here is green and red."

Apparently that didn't matter.

Brittany scoured the aisle, looking behind the displays for any misplaced packages, when she found a small bin of clearance items. She picked up a package of red white and blue striped napkins and a package of blue and white striped plates. She then grabbed a few of the solid blue and solid white napkin holders and held them all up for Mike's approval.

"Don't worry, Kurt. Britt managed to find a few things. No, they don't match. Yes, you will be thankful and deal with it because my bestfriend is the best at being creative. Plus, Quinn is coming over and she can make something out of nothing."

Mike ended the phone call and shoved the phone into his pocket, "I swear, living with him has been an experience I will never forget."

"I don't get it, though. What's so special about boats?" Brittany glanced over Mike's shoulder at the list he was checking. Kurt had asked if he and Brittany wouldn't mind going to the grocery store while they were out after their dance class. Well, Mike's dance class. Brittany just helped him out once in awhile when she needed to clear her mind or let loose a bit. And since she had been so busy at work, she definitely needed a few hours to let her mind take a break and her body feel the release.

And, she definitely needed that sort of release, too.

"You've met Kurt and you know how he is. Plus, this shouldn't be a surprise. He throws a themed dinner party every month."

The blonde rolled her eyes, "I'm not surprised that there's a dinner party, I just don't understand why he isn't having a holiday themed party when it's December. It was just thanksgiving and Christmas is only a 17 days away."

"But you're not counting?" Mike teased.

"Nope," Britt said with an obvious extra bounce in her step, "but seriously, how easy would it have been to just go with a holiday theme? There's like a zillion things here for that." She emphasized her point by holding up an elf hat and sliding it on Mike's head, while she slid the fake Santa beard onto her chin. "Ho, ho, ho!"

"Because it falls too closely to the New Year's Eve party that he's planning to throw as well. You know him, 'It's all about timing'!"

They slipped the hat and beard back onto the shelf, "ok, fine. But what's with the boat theme?"

"Les Mis."

The actual amount of annoyance she felt at the prospect of listening to Kurt sing the whole movie was probably unhealthy. For Kurt, not for her. Because even though she was not one for violence, if he insisted on singing every song like he had during Moulin Rouge, she would not be held accountable for her actions. She made sure she told Mike that before he left her to find the best looking melons for Kurt's fruit boat idea. No doubt something he found on Pinterest.

"Are you going to move out of my way or stand there like someone's lost child?"

Brittany snapped out of her roaming thoughts and turned to see if there was a lost child somewhere near her. There was no child. And if the cold gaze directed her way was any indication, she'd guess that this lady had to be an old English or math teacher. They were always the meanest. But the way she dressed, unless things were different here than in San Diego, there was no way any math or English teacher would be able to afford those clothes. She didn't know much about fashion, but that weird double GG thing was something that Kurt had everywhere on his inspiration boards.

The shorter blonde took a step towards Brittany and snapped her fingers in front of Brittany's face, "Hello? Anyone home? Or are you deaf _and_ dumb?" And there was no doubt that those words were directed towards her.

Brittany opened her mouth, but no words came out. She wasn't used to the harshness and venom that this stranger was directing at her. She had met plenty of self-important people in her life, but none of them had ever felt the need to humiliate or degrade someone they didn't know. Well, Brittany hoped they didn't. It wasn't like she actively sought the company of people like that. And she definitely hadn't been spoken to like that since high school. She had always been pretty quiet and reserved except for when she was around her friends. But many of her classmates, and teachers, took her quietness as an indicator of intelligence.

"Okay, I don't know what the hell is wrong with you. Move the hell out of the aisle. You're wasting my time and it's obvious that you," the lady pointed at Brittany's faded UC San Diego sweatshirt and navy blue leggings, "can't afford my hourly rate."

Brittany's eyes stung with unshed tears as the shorter woman forcefully brushed past with her nose stuck high in the air. Brittany ran her fingers over the crimson bracelet on her wrist before taking a calming breath and turning to grab the first two cantaloupes she could find.

"Excuse me, where can I find laxatives?" Brittany's head turned slightly and her eyes shifted down the aisle to where the voice came from.

A young brunette was obviously addressing the Queen of Bitchtown. Brittany wanted to warn her that she was making a mistake, but the fleeting smirk that graced the girl's lips made her pause.

"What rock do you live under to think that someone working _here_ would be dressed like this?"

The younger woman shrugged, "well, you might want to find someone that works here and ask them about the laxatives, because there's something stuck up your ass that needs to come out immediately."

Ms. Rudest-Bitch-Of-All-Time looked the girl up and down before she clutched her purse tightly under her arm, "you don't even deserve to breathe the same air as my Gucci bag. Get away from me before I call security."

"Jooooooder, por que no te callas! Pinche cabron! Chingate!"

Before Brittany knew what was happening, the smaller girl was being held back by two younger boys. She's not quite sure what the brunette said to the lady, but the two boys were laughing even as they struggled to hold her back. In that moment Brittany was sure of three things.

First, whatever the girl said must have been highly offensive because Ms. I-Have-A-Baseball-Bat-Shoved-Up-My-Ass was standing in the middle of the produce section with her mouth hanging open.

Second, that girl has the sexiest voice she has ever heard. Both in English and Spanish. She doesn't know exactly what she said, but she grew up in San Diego and has heard _joder_ plenty of times from kids at school.

Third, the girl was beautiful. From her head to her combat boot clad feet. Soft brown eyes looked up at Brittany.

"I hope my profanity didn't offend you. I just couldn't stand by while she said those horrible things to you. I mean, she doesn't know you." The shorter girl averted her gaze, "hell, _I don't even know you_."

Brittany smiled as she noticed a slight change in the color of the girl's cheeks.

"And now I'm rambling for fuck's sake…" the obvious discomfort aside, Santana felt a strange affection for the girl. One that made her normal quick wit dissolve into a puddle of sentence fragments and semi-awkward pauses.

"No, no. Don't apologize. I don't know exactly what you said, but it sounded fierce." Britt rushed out with a little bit of breathlessness. Blue eyes roamed the girl's body for a second time and she caught the brunette smirking at her when her eyes finally returned to her face.

"Um, I'm Brittany and I should be the one thanking you." The way her heart was beating in her chest, and the way the other girl's brown eyes seemed to shimmer, were making it hard to breathe.

No amount of preparation could have stopped Brittany's insides from twisting in delight, or her face from turning an embarrassing shade of red, when she heard the other girl chuckle, "Pretty name for a pretty lady."

"Well, Brittany," and hearing her name roll off of that tongue was putting her in serious risk of having a heart attack, "no thanks needed. Maybe Santa will add my name to the nice list this year."

And just like that, she turned and walked out of the store.

It wasn't until Brittany felt a tap on her shoulder that she realized Mike had finally made his way back over to her.

"Hey, Stitch, what's wrong?" Mike followed the path of Brittany's gaze towards the open door.

"I don't even know her name."

* * *

 **KURT: Dinner my place tomorrow**

Santana hadn't had time to read the first message before another one came in.

 **QUINN: Are you going to Kurt and Mike's tomorrow?**

Santana typed out a quick message to both of them before tossing her phone back on her nightstand. She still hadn't unpacked her suitcases, though her mom made a point to ask her about it again.

She eyed the clock and noticed that her text asking if the dinner was going to be another one of Kurt's elaborately themed nights was still unanswered. It was already 11 in the morning, she should probably get up to see what her mom had planned for the day.

 **QUINN: umm….**

 **KURT: If I say no will you come?**

She pulled her Dr. Who hoodie over her head and pushed her glasses up her nose. She trudged over to the window to peek out at the backyard. The weatherman had said that the typically cold air would make a return this week, and though she didn't want it, she knew that like everything else, the warmer weather would end eventually. Noticing a lack of snow on the ground, she almost turned away, before a shift of color caught her eye.

The willow had lost all of its leaves, but it's beauty had remained. She's not actually certain when they became her favorite tree, but she looked for them everywhere. They always remind her of home.

"Do you remember helping your papi build this?" Maribel touched the bench she was sitting on and welcomed Santana into the space next to her.

Santana nodded and handed her mom the mug of black coffee she had made for her.

"That was the summer you started following him around everywhere. Anything that he did, you tried your best to mimic." Maribel laughed and took a sip of the steaming liquid. "He bought a tool belt for you so you would stop trying to put everything in your pockets, which I would inevitably find later while washing your clothes."

Santana turned on the bench to face her mom. The lifted her right pant leg to reveal a faint scar running horizontally across her shin. "Remember how I got this scar?"

Maribel nodded, "you had just started kindergarten and you were so excited that your papi let you use a hammer that you ran in the house at full speed to tell me, but you tripped on the concrete back steps and cut yourself really deeply."

She rubbed the scar before looking into Santana's eyes, "Carl ran so fast to pick you up. He took you into the kitchen and cleaned you up and gave you so much pampering. He thought you'd never help him again, and he was tempted to make sure you didn't, but you were right back out here after you finished your popsicle."

"I don't even remember why we we built it." Santana looked up at the bare limbs.

"Well, in the spot that this bench sits there used to be another willow. One that you probably don't remember because you were too small, maybe 2 or 3. But it had been chopped down because of all of the dead limbs. There were still pieces of it all over the yard and neither of us thought anything about it. I had just picked up gardening on weekends and you would occasionally come out here with me. At some point you decided to do what I was doing and buried some leaves and sticks and who knows what else into the hole from the old tree that we had yet to fully fill in."

Maribel tickled Santana's knee, "you were always a sneaky little thing, mija."

"And you love me anyway."

"Anyway… nothing happened for the longest time. And we probably would have forgotten all about it, except, lo and behold, that spring we noticed a little sapling sticking out of the muddy waters. It took a while to become something bigger, but by that summer, you had taken a liking to "tana twee" and wouldn't go a day without watering it."

She smiled looking up at her tree, "so what about this bench?"

"Ah yes, always so sidetracked! You and Carl built this after he had the bright idea to take pictures of you in this spot every year for school. He wanted to keep the memory of you and your tree growing together." Their eyes locked for only a moment before they were both swept up in their own memories.

Maribel slipped away sometime later, only returning to bring Santana her own cup of coffee and remind her that they had plans to meet her aunt Linda later in the afternoon.

By the time Santana had showered and dressed to leave with her mom, she had already ignored two calls from Kurt and Quinn, but that didn't stop them from tag-texting her.

 **QUINN: No matter what Kurt says, you do not have to dress up.**

 **KURT: it's sailor themed. think of all the jokes you can make.**

 **KURT: Watching Anne in Les Miserables! I know how much you love that movie.**

 **QUINN: Nate said to tell you he's sad he missed out on our movie night last time.**

 **KURT: there's lots of food**

 **KURT: stop being stubborn, we miss you. I want you to meet my friend, Adam.**

 **UNKNOWN NUMBER: Hey Danger this is Mike. You already met her, but I want to formally introduce you to my best friend. So you have to come to dinner tomorrow. Don't worry, I haven't told her your nickname.**

 **To MIKE: Happy Feet! When did I meet your best friend?**

Santana tried to remember if she had met anyone the last time she went to Mike and Kurt's apartment. The only person there that she hadn't seen before was Kurt's boy of the month, Sebastian.

 **MIKE: she said you saved her from the queen of hell with your fierce words. She was so mad that she didn't get your name.**

 **To MIKE: How do you know that it was me?**

Santana walked over to her dresser and picked out her favorite earrings. Her eyes roamed over to her old jewelry box. Well, if you could really call it that. She hadn't thought about any of the stuff she had in there since high school. She popped open the lid and peered inside.

 **MIKE: I haven't told her that I know who you are, but when she told me what happened, I thought it might have been you since I literally ran into you near the bakery. How is your foot, btw?**

 **To MIKE: Bruised, but fine. Wait, Brittany is your best friend? The hell?**

Her fingers trailed over the trinkets it contained. Some earrings she just _had_ to have for a school dance. A few hairpins her mom and dad had bought her because she mentioned that she liked them. Her eyes caught the tattered strings of a bracelet she made when she was younger. She pulled it out and headed to the living room.

"Hey ma, look what I found!"

Maribel zipped her coat as she turned to face her daughter.

"Wow! Where was it?" Maribel gently thumbed over the material. Santana had gone through a phase of making friendship bracelets when she was younger. One day she had the idea that she would use her summer to volunteer at Carl's, so she made bracelets to give to his patients. Santana wore hers every day until it eventually wore out and became more of a tattered bunch of red string. Maribel was shocked she had pulled it out again to wear.

"In my trinket box." Santana held out her wrist for Maribel to re-tie it there. When it was secure on her wrist, she let a smile slowly grace her face. Her phone buzzed again as she was climbing to the passenger seat of her mom's car.

 **MIKE: Besides the fact that you just confirmed it, she described what you looked like and what you were wearing. I knew that it was you and I can't wait to see her face when you show up. So, will you come?**

Whether the latest text had changed her mind or not, she'll never tell. But before she could stop herself she was typing out the quickest response yet.

 **SANTANA: Ok. I'll be there.**

* * *

I can't thank you all enough for the reviews and feedback. Stay tuned!

-J


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